This whole enterprise is so embarrassingly awful it is difficult to know where to begin. Is this play supposed to be a fantasy or some expression of reality? Jazz bands of whatever colour did not play in the dining rooms of expensive London hotels in the 1930s. Dance bands which may have contained the odd jazz man was the norm. The band in the play did not play anything remotely recognisable as jazz. Did band leaders stroll around London dressed like Fred Astaire in a Hollywood musical complete with opera cloak; I don't think so.
This 'hugely popular' band seemed to spend its time playing to an audience of about twelve middle-aged diners.
The cast of assorted weirdos and high society drop-outs was totally unconvincing. Where did the black band-leader acquire his impeccable accent; did he go to Eton perhaps? The play has simplistic plot lines and we know that the whole enterprise is going to end in tears. OK, we already knew that the assorted Windsor males were a set of privileged moronic uneducated fools and that sections of the upper classes would have gone along with fascism at the drop of a cocktail; but we could do with a rather more nuanced and sophisticated explanation than we are getting. I am only continuing to watch to see whether it will get any more awful.
The author appears to be the BBC's equivalent of the Emperor who is forever indulged with his fantasies. Perhaps I can be the small boy who points out that it is all expensive self indulgent rubbish.
This 'hugely popular' band seemed to spend its time playing to an audience of about twelve middle-aged diners.
The cast of assorted weirdos and high society drop-outs was totally unconvincing. Where did the black band-leader acquire his impeccable accent; did he go to Eton perhaps? The play has simplistic plot lines and we know that the whole enterprise is going to end in tears. OK, we already knew that the assorted Windsor males were a set of privileged moronic uneducated fools and that sections of the upper classes would have gone along with fascism at the drop of a cocktail; but we could do with a rather more nuanced and sophisticated explanation than we are getting. I am only continuing to watch to see whether it will get any more awful.
The author appears to be the BBC's equivalent of the Emperor who is forever indulged with his fantasies. Perhaps I can be the small boy who points out that it is all expensive self indulgent rubbish.